


Its Quiet Uptown

by princess_current



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Angst/Comfort, Comfort, Gen, Tears, shhh spoilers, warning: alex is already kinda dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 06:55:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11435526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princess_current/pseuds/princess_current
Summary: Ever since the death Alexander Hamilton, America and it’s members as been morning, especially his beloved son and wife. After several months of separation, they finally meet again, Philip needing to explain himself.





	Its Quiet Uptown

**Author's Note:**

> here’s a little short story i made in my free time– its based off an au i created :>> i promise ill continue other fics!! i jjust need to make a schedule for the other ones :))

Philip Hamilton took a long, shaky breath, taking in the gloomy scenerary. Tall, scrawny trees overhung the streets, struggling to hold onto it's orange-red leaves. He could hear the trees scowl as the calm breeze swept into the landscape, attempting to snatch the autumn leaves out of their grasp. The cold, ridgid sidewalk gave a somewhat unsettling clunk whenever the man rested his polished shoes against the surface. The garden that rested beside the sidewalk stretched out for miles, the flowers resting among other flowers gently. He can remember plucking one orange and whilte flower, accompanied by several smaller red flowers, and tieing them neatly into a lovely boque. He had spent the rest of his cents to get a red, silky ribbon to neatly perfect the boque, and he made it to his mother on Valentines day. She never acknowledged the flowers and eventually returned them from the very garden he plucked them from. He kept the red ribbon on his bedroom dresser.  
Just recalling the painful memory sent tears forming at the tips of his eyes, which he quickly dismissed with a wipe. Philip took another shaky breath and looked up into the sky. It was so loney after Alexander was shot. The world had paused and started to fade from it's color as it wept at the lost of a stellar man. America's tears were the rainy days trust upon them, and when our nation got angry with the killer, lighting would strike outside Philip's window and light up his entire room. Not only did America weep; his mother, Aunt Angelica and several other faces, wept at Alexander's absence.  
Philip bit his tounge and slowed down, aiming to rest at a wooden bench that over looked the garden. As he looked, tears gargled up in his throat, and he couldn't brush them off. It felt horrible to have that feeling of guilt in his chest, swallowing his lungs. he had to let go. But how?  
The boy cleared his throat and gave a sleek smile. He started to sing, letting his child like voice carry through the weary town. "I spend hours in the garden... I walk alone to the store. And it's quiet uptown... I never liked the quiet before."  
Philip raised his head, trying to corner his tears curling in his eyes. "I take the children to church on Sunday, the sign on the cross of the door. And I pray," His voice horrible hitched, letting a tear run down his freckled cheek bone. "That never used to happen before."  
He started to tap his smooth fingers against the polished wood to the beat of his singing, trying to soothe the sorrow. "If you see him in the street, walking by himself, talking to himself, have pity," He took a deep breath. "Paps, you would of liked it uptown, it's quiet uptown," He felt his voice peak at the end of that sentence, feeling the tears trailing down his neck.  
"He is going through the unimaginable. His hair has grown astray, he passes everyday, they say he walks the length of the city," Philip took a breath to close his tear clogged eyelashes. "You knock me out, I fall apart-" Philip tried to sing the last lyric, but tears exploded from his eyes, heavy sobs escaping his insecure breathing. As he cried, he raised his legs to rest his feet on the bench, bringing his shaky knees close to his chest with a tight hug. He managed to mouth the words, "Can you imagine?"  
He could feel his pants soaking up his salty tears, his knees quickly freezing due to the cold, dreary day. His body shaked violently, his cries eerily echoing throughout the town and returning as a creepy, high pitched wail. Philip's fingers had gone numb to the grip on his sleek fabric, and by the bitter enviroment. His face grew cold as his tears frose up his face, feeling the shivers down the tracks of his tears.  
After uncountable minutes, Philip raised himself, wiping the tears from his face and raising his head. He could still see the color coated garden, but several yards ahead of him was a dark figure, turning the corner to see his state. He automatically poped himself from his crumbled form and brushed the remaining tears from his clothes and face. He studied the dark figure, only to reckonise the dark outfit and onyx colored, silky hair to come face to face with Eliza Hamilton. Philip's throat clogged, tears walloping in his chest, ready pop like an unopened champain glass. He hadn't seen his mother in a while, eversince they parted and moved to his own apartment, which was for the better. He stared coldy into her helpless eyes, tears slipping into the corners of her eyes. God help her soul; it's hard when your own son is guily for the bullet in your husband's chest.  
After a couple solid seconds, Philip stratched up the courage to clear his throat and shakily open his mouth. "Look at where we are. Look at where we started," His weak symphony traveled through the silent garden, cleanly arriving at Eliza's ears. Her expression hardened, her sad eyes morphing into a stern look, obviously knowing where this was going. Phillip bit his tounge, restraining himself from any of her displeasure of the song that he caught Eliza singing to his father at hard bumps in his life. It was a dangerous move.  
"I know I don't deserve you mother, but hear me out, that would be enough," His heart skipped as Eliza's face flickered at the word of 'mother'. "If I had smiled, if I wasn't so irrational, he'd be standing here right now, and you would smile, and that would be enough," He paused to breathe. His face was already moist with tears again, the faucet running. "I don't pretend to know the challenges we're facing; I know there's no replacing what we've lost, and you need time," He paused to look at Eliza straight in the eyes, his expression softening into a warm face of plead. "But I'm not afraid; I know who my mother is. Just let me stand there by your side, and that would be enough."  
Philip watched, pained as Eliza looked into Philip's milky brown eyes, tension piling in his throat. Eventually, Eliza turned and started to strode out of the way and aimed at the sidewalk behind Philip. His heart lept a yard as his eyes flickered in hope, feeling a worderful, warm sensation surging through his veins. It's been months since he's felt anything positive. Just the painful reminders of his sins.  
He stumbled with his hands as he scrambled to raise from his weak position. Taking a dry sleeve, he wiped his tears and jogged to meet up with Eliza.  
"Ma, wait!" He stumbled next to her goth styled mother, her black buckle dress mixing with her hair. Standing next to her forced him to look slightly down, due to his height difference. He could still remember when he was small enough to be picked up with ease and when he could gaze upon his parent's giggling faces. He would steal his father's army coats and run around, holding a banana as a pistol. He would constantly have pistol wars between his father and whenever he shot him, he would dramatically fall over and give a cheesy last words. Philip would laugh and shake him awake, which resulted in him jumping and tickling Philip til he couldn't breathe. Eliza would occasionally join in as a general, ordering Philip to stand with pride and go into battle with courage. This would result in a gang attack, both Philip and Eliza tickling Alex. His laughter rang in the back of his head at night, rattling his emotions like maracas.  
Eliza looked away, but quietly said, "Your piano lessons are paying off."  
Philip was struck with confusion, making him think for a couple seconds, "Oh, haha, thanks. I've been practicing."  
He could see the side of her mouth curl into a warm smile, but not saying anything. Philip smiled back, keeping his eyes ahead of him on the blossoming garden sidewalk. And upon contact of the concrete, Eliza spoke again.  
"You've gotten tall."  
"Hah, kinda. It's mostly my shoes."  
"You have flat shoes."  
"With thick soles."  
Silence hung between them like mistletoe on Christmas, but the couple tried to reach in but kept missing and stumbling. No one spoke to break the tension for minutes at a time. Conversation was small, going on and off at will. He deserved it; killing your father isn't exactly something you just get over with.   
This went on for hours, the two Hamiltons throwing and tossing thoughts at each other, barely having a conversation per topic. They ended up walking into the park, being able to see the calm and swift beauties of the night soaking up the damp park. Each step of their feet sunk into the rich grass, making a soft crunch upon impact. Dew flung from the grass and bounced to the next tuft of grass. The soft melodies of the crickets singing their song for the whole world to hear, and awaiting their applaud. The moon was a fat crescent that night, it's bright, pear white color glimmering throughout the park, shinning on every piece of green it could reach. Stars were shattered across the sky, little specks of moon dust sprinkled across a smooth canvas. As Philip gazed at the stars, he couldn't help but to start connecting all the dots in search to find a secret image or a hidden letter. His heart shattered inside just looking at the breath taking sight, tears crawling into his eyes again. He loved the look of the galaxy when his eyes were wet, as all the lights swirled and danced with eachother, all laughing and dragging the moon into the dance floor.  
Philip unconciously strode forward, gazing into the sky and expanding his hands out wide, almost if to hug the garden. "Look around, look around, Eliza!" He spun around, singing his tone in a hopeful ring, looking at Eliza with excitement.  
He swallowed hard. Eliza had flinched when he refered to her as "Eliza". He had never said her name in years. He bit his tounge to relieve his embarrasment, and then turned himself to the sky. The tingle of a tear curling under his eyelids grated his nerves. He was prepared for anything she would throw at him to punish him.  
"There are moments where the words don't reach," Philip jumped at the elegent voice singing, only to be hit with a needle of nostalgia, realising Eliza was singing. God, she's never sang in years.  
"There's a grace to powerful to name. We push away what we can never understand; we push away the unimaginable," Philip had to remind himself to breathe. The tears trickled down his face, dripping like a faucet at his mother's singing. Her melodic voice and sweet notes she hit made him gawk, as his heart had throbbed at every word she spoke. One bullet and you loose so much, even more than you intend to loose.  
His heart skipped a beat when he heard the crunches of Eliza's footsteps behind him walking forward, approcahing his left side. Eventually, he could see her figure right beside him in the corner of his eye. His head throbbed with stress as his hands started to shake. Blood pulsed through his veins as his heart tried to skip a beat. He started to bite his tounge to relieve the stress, and ignored the metal taste of blood in his mouth. He closed his eyes and took a shuddered breath, trying to contain his cool and retain the reputation he gained from Eliza the past couple hours. He tried to focus on the view but he was cut off.  
A warmth graced his left hand. A soothing touch. His eyes flew to his hand, a jolt shuddering through his body. There was another hand holding his. One with a beautiful, gold wedding ring. He traced it's to connect it to Eliza. It took him a second to realize that fact, and when he did, his eyes widened and they sparkled under the moonlight. Eliza was holding his hand. After all those endless months of guilt and regret, it's just forgiven in a swift hand stroke.  
"It's quiet uptown," Philip felt blessed to hear those words, being beautifully sung by his beloved mother. It struck him with pain to hear the horrible hitch in her voice, only to have a javelin stuck in his chest when she turned around. Eliza and Philip locked eyes, Eliza's face falling apart as tears were trailing down her face and dripping like a faucet. Her pale face was flushed with a deep red, her nose and ears burning up due to her tears on her cheeks. Dear god, when he saw her eyes, Philip almost forgot how to breathe because of the helplessness behind her full pupils. The moonlight reflected just right on her eyes to give a sence of innocence, but guilt simatanueasly. It's different to see your mother in tears; a woman you've lived with for years, and aquantied with love and smiles suddenly starts to cry over you.  
Philip took a deep breath and moved his hands, aiming to take his mother's hands in forgiveness, but Eliza retracted her hands and turned to face Philip. She wore an expression of torn warmth, the kind of look you'd get from someone who's seen their child achieve their dreams. She drew a long, shaky breath, and finally spoke.  
"I-- I'm sorry, Pip," she sputtered, her tears beating her to the race.  
Tears infected Philip again, plump droplets of water failing to stay on his face. He looked down, giving a warm smile and half laugh, only stopped by the bubble of tears lodged in his throat. He looked back into Eliza's eyes and spoke.  
"I'm a-also sorry... Ma," Speaking was hard when you have a walnut of guilt stuck in your throat, ready to be digested and yelled at for.  
Eliza's expression softened and morphed into a more forgiving smile. "I-I'm..." She cut herself off by slowly bringing Philip into an embrace, clutching to his smooth fabric. She rested her weary head on his shoulder, feeling the damp tears soaking into his fabric. Philip was startled at first, but he slowly released and started to hug her back, giving her a kiss on her forehead before resting his head on her shoulder. He released all restrain he had on anything that moment, sickening sobs gradually acesending into muffled cries, his feeble grip tightening with every sob he let escape. He could feel Eliza's stream of tears soaking his suit, but he didn't care. Today was the day where his mother finally gave in and forgot the blood he spilt.  
After a good minute or two, Philip raised his head to catch his breath, giving a shuttered gasp of air. He released one of his hands to wipe the tears off his face, feeling Eliza lift her head as well. They released their grips as they caught gaze again, taking a minute for Philip to get lost in Eliza's crystal eyes. As Eliza returned the gaze, Philip let out a nervous laugh and looked down at her small, child-like hands. Philip took Eliza's hand and wrapped his finger around her's, just like he would do when he was younger. Eliza was caught off guard a little bit, only to smile and curl her finger around his.  
They stood there for several moments, lost in the moment until Philip started to walk, aiming down towards the flower bed. Eliza followed, still keeping their hands locked. They walked for several minutes til Philip gently cleared his throat and spoke the sweetest words Eliza had heard in a while.  
"Mom... Do you still love me? Even after all that I did?"  
Eliza was caught off guard, skipping a breath as she closed her mouth in silence. What seemed like seconds appeared like hours as she processed her reposnce. Eventually, she smiled and responded with a calm, but loving tone.  
"Til the day I can kiss him again."


End file.
